Never Ever
by Mary James
Summary: Set postwar. Wherein George and Hermione discuss the past and play drinking games. Not completely compliant with Deathly Hallows.
1. Part One

Author's Note/ Disclaimer  
So, since I'm secretly in love with Hermione and adore the Weasley twins, I wrote this. And since it's a post-war fic, people have died, characters are older, things have changed, etc. etc. It's been five years since what would have been Hermione's seventh year where she would have been 17 yrs old. Five years later that puts her at 22. I would guess George would be at about 23 or 24.  
So, George shows up, they both feel awkward, and out comes the alcohol.  
Anyway, this is a fairly tame but kinda angsty chapter. Mentions of character death, rated M for the later parts.  
Also, I own none of the characters mentioned below.

  
"Never Ever" Part One

Whatever had been left of her life, she hadn't wanted it.  
It had been five years since the defeat of Lord Voldemort and the end of the Second War. She'd stayed with her parent's for some time afterwards. Attending funerals, mourning, comforting and eventually, recovering.  
A year and a half passed as everyone who was left tried to pick up what was left of their lives. But the war had taken it's toll, and there had been an awful lot of funerals.

Harry's, of course, had had the largest attendance. The entire wizarding community of London and afar had shown up. Hermione had been asked to speak, and then politely declined. They understood, she couldn't have managed it.  
Then of course there had been the Weasley funeral. Three out of seven children gone, just like that. Ron died at Harry's side, fighting with him to the last. Fred had been attacked at the shop along with several auror's while George has been gone. And Percy had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He witnessed several other deaths, and the Deatheaters weren't too fond of witnesses.

After she'd left her parent's, she had found an apartment in a decent-sized muggle town about 100 or so miles outside London. She got a job at the library down the street and had been working there ever since, even though McGonagall had contacted her twice about a teaching position at Hogwarts. Hermione simply wasn't up to it, she wasn't ready to go back there yet.

It was seven thirty on a Tuesday night, three days after the five year anniversary of the end of the Second War, and someone was ringing her doorbell.  
"Just a minute!" She sat her book down on the couch and glanced out the window. It was probably her overly helpful landlord again, who would chatter about old pipes or rats or something. He was fond of Hermione and sometimes reminded her of Filch in a strange way.  
But it wasn't her landlord. Unless her landlord had recently grown about six inches and dyed his hair red.

"George!" Something had caught in the back of her throat, she'd almost said Ron.  
"What are you doing here?" she blurted before she could stop herself. "Er, sorry. I mean, come in!"

He looked about as uncomfortable as she sounded.  
"Mum said you hadn't written in awhile and I was coming through here on business anyway, so I told her I'd stop by. And...well...are you alright then?"  
"Yes, of course. Sorry I haven't written in so long, I've just been busy lately." she lied.

George glanced at the couch, where her book was still lying open. "Right, yeah, you look rather busy."  
The awkward kind of silence that she hated had descended upon them.

"Do you want something to drink? I've got some tea or I could make coffee if you want." She started towards the small kitchen.  
"Actually," George started, "have you got any alcohol?

Several minutes later she had emerged from the kitchen victorious. A bottle of scotch in one hand and a much larger bottle of firewhiskey in the other. George had praised her excellent hospitality and conjured up two small, glass tumblers, taking a seat in a chair opposite the couch.

"Hermione Granger, all books and logic and firewhiskey."  
"Don't" she said, but smiled in spite of herself and poured them both a glass of scotch, handing him one.  
"Why not? It sounds good." He raised his glass. "Cheers."  
"Cheers." she echoed, wincing as the first gulp went down. It burned, she'd forgotten why she never really drank scotch. "So what kind of business were you doing out here?

"Delivery. Some rich bloke ordered a specially made product for his daughter and wanted it delivered by hand. Ginny's running the shop while I'm gone. She probably would have been here herself if I'd told I was dropping by." George took another drink and settled back into the chair.

"You should have brought her." Hermione said, nursing her own drink.  
"Nah, she would have drank all the firewhiskey."  
Hermione laughed. "Ginny?"

"I'm not kidding. On a good night, she can drink me under the table. Which is quite the feat. Fred and I nicked some firewhiskey during Bill's wedding reception and took off. She ended up finding us and we all got smashed. Mum never knew."

He paused and then finished off his glass. They were quiet for a moment while Hermione downed the rest of hers and he poured them both some more.

"Do you miss him?"

George looked up. "He was literally my other half, how can I not? Five years takes some of the pain away, but not all of it you know?"

Hermione nodded. "I went back after the first year passed, and they'd put up that monument at the gravesites. I hate that bloody monument." She paused and took a drink. "And I haven't been back there since."

"Mum and Dad go every year. So does Ginny. I went cause they had a service this year."  
"Oh yeah? How was it?"  
"Rubbish. A load of crock about how far we've come and how thankful everyone is and how horrifying it all was."  
Hermione snorted into her glass. "Right, because Scrimgeour was there fighting by our sides the whole time. He's one to talk."

They were quiet again. Those last few attacks were something none of the Order members talked about anymore. That's where they'd lost Fred and Ron, and Harry.  
George leant forward in the chair and sat his empty glass down on the table.

"I can't think about this anymore" He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and wrenched the lid off.  
"Firewhiskey?"

"But I'm not done with-" Hermione began, before George took the glass from her and downed the remaining scotch. He sat her now empty glass next to his and licked his lips, grinning at her.

"Lets play a game."


	2. Part Two

Author's Note/ Disclaimer  
Part Two! This one is why I have that M rating up there. Anyway, I own neither of them, but I would appreciate any reviews you leave!

  
"Never Ever" Part Two

Hermione could still feel the warmth in the back of her throat from the scotch, and she didn't like the way George was grinning at her at all.  
"What kind of game?"

"You'll like it, I promise. It's called Never Ever Have I" He tipped a small amount of fire whiskey into each of their glasses and handed her one.  
"Now, I'll say something like, never ever have I...read 'Hogwarts: A History' in it's entirety. And if you _have_ done that, you have to take a shot." He motioned to her. "So go ahead."

"What?"

"Oh come on, I know you've read that whole book twice Granger. Take the shot."

She glared at him, but threw back her head and downed the shot. She handed him the glass and he grinned.

"Your turn." he told her, pouring her another.  
"Right, never ever have I...accidentally set fire to myself."  
"Ah, I see you've caught on."  
"I'm a fast learner."

------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later they were both beginning to forget what they had and had not done.

"Right! So...okay! Never ever have I done 'the deed'" George waggled his eyebrows in what he thought was a suggestive manner. "in a public place."  
"Liar!" Hermione shouted, nearly falling over as she leaned forward and pointed her finger accusingly. They were sitting on the floor now, legs crossed, barefoot, and the bottle of fire whiskey between them.

Hermione poured herself a shot and threw it back.

"You have not! Now who's lying?"  
She giggled.  
"I have so! At the library, with this new guy I was supposed to be training at the time."

George let out a loud, drunken laugh. "Wait! Wait! Lemme guess! Did you do it in...the restricted sex-tion?" he asked.  
They both went into a fit of laughter.

Hermione was still trying to recover her breath when George declared it was now her turn.

"I haven't never ever..."  
"Never ever have I!" he scolded.  
"Right, never ever have I...kissed..." She pondered this for a moment, and then poking him in the chest affectionately, concluded with: "You!"

Something in the back of George's mind was telling him to "Stop! Now!". But he was drunk, and he'd never let those warnings stop him before had he? He wouldn't be George Weasley if he quit because something seemed _wrong_.

"Ya'know? Neither have I." he said, grinning at her.

She frowned. "Don't you look at me like that George Reginald Weasley."  
"Like what Miss Granger? An' my middle names 'snot Reginald."  
"Like, like a looking thing." She went to pour them both a shot, but nothing came out. She tossed the empty bottle onto the couch. "Blast."

He was still watching her when she looked back up.

"I thought I told you-" George grabbed the finger she was waggling at him accusingly and caught her by the wrist, pulling her towards him. "Oh..." was all she could manage.  
"Told me what?" he asked, feeling a little dangerous "That you'd never kissed me before?"

George had a freckle right at the corner of his mouth that Hermione had never noticed before. She licked her lips.  
"So do I have to take a shot after this then?" she asked, teasing.

"No," George murmured before kissing her, his mouth hot against hers and already open, tasting like firewhiskey that left traces on her lips. "No I think we can think of something else." he said, his voice low.

Hermione grabbed the front of his shirt in one hand and pulled him up. He grinned and kissed her again, harder this time, and wrapped an arm around her waist, letting it rest on the curve of her hip. She was pulling him backward, toward the hallway. And the bedroom.  
She wondered why she'd never noticed certain things about George Weasley before. Like the way his hair curled around his ears and just brushed against his jaw line. Or how his eyelashes were a softer red and that his brown eyes had a little bit of green in them.

The back of her foot hit the wall and she stumbled. He chuckled and guided her around the corner, his hands on her hips, and pressed her back to the wall. His mouth hovered over her pulse, one hand sliding up the inside of her shirt, following the curve of her spine. And she thought that if this took _one more second_ she was going to scream. And not for the proper reasons either.

But George knew. And pretty soon he was pulling his shirt over his head and Hermione was fumbling with his belt buckle. He had a vague idea that this wasn't going to make it to the bedroom. They were drunk, and a little sloppy, and neither of them could hold on any longer. But at least now he could say he'd had sex standing up in a hallway before.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"Oh, god. I can't move. You're on top of me." Hermione opened her eyes and instantly regretted it. The sunlight was blinding.  
"I'm sorry, is that a problem?" George lifted his head, which took a lot of effort on his body's part.  
"Not unless you want me to throw up on you shortly." she told him, eyes still closed.

He rolled off the bed and she heard him close the blinds, and then he padded out into the hallway. She sat up, groaning as she did so, and opened her eyes again. Much better. Maybe she'd be alright after all.  
George was banging around in the kitchen. She could here cupboards opening and closing and then running water. Moments later he came padding back into the bedroom, naked and holding a glass of water in one hand and aspirin in the other.

"This is your idea of showing a girl a good time then? Showing up unannounced and demanding alcohol, getting both of us wasted, and then offering water and aspirin the morning after?"

He handed her the glass of water and pills.  
"Now I know that's just the hangover talking dear, sweet, Hermione. And you also forgot the part where I ripped your knickers off and shagged you rotten. But I am willing to forgive you..." he said with a smile.  
"And I will tell you that when you have recovered, I fully intend on cooking a delightful, greasy breakfast for the two of us. And in the nude as well! That, my darling, is a bargain. Only the special girls get that." He gave her a horribly suggestive wink and she rolled her eyes.

"Well this recovery you speak of may take awhile." she said, taking the aspirin and sitting the glass on the table next to the bed.  
George grinned and crawled back under the covers with her.  
"I'm willing to wait."


End file.
